


Bittersweet

by rk800 (Duskythesomething)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Therapy, he's got anxiety, look at him, you fucked up a perfectly good android that's what
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 13:11:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14916011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duskythesomething/pseuds/rk800
Summary: i mayhaps continue this is people want it? i guess it'd be pretty cool to explore connor's recovery with hank. lemme know if you'd be interested in more of this, i guess!





	Bittersweet

"Do you want to become human?"

"No."

"Do you want to remain a mechanical android?"

"No.. I don't think so."

"Then what do you want, Connor?"

There was a long pause. The silence seemed to echo around the small, yet comfortable room. He didn't answer, instead letting the idea of time slow around him, taking in the soft blues and grays of the office; the plush sofa, cluttered desk; Hank standing off to the side of the room, his arms crossed as he watched Connor; the kind young woman sitting at the desk, a pencil in one hand, a long strand of auburn hair twisting in the fingers of the other; and finally, the pumping of his Thirium regulator inside him, like a heartbeat. It was constant, and as much as he was still uncomfortable with the idea of being alive and knowing, it made him feel more whole and human-like.

Finally, he brought himself up to speed, navigating the situation in the only way he knew how, "I don't know."

The lighting in the room made his eyes look ten shades brighter, a warm amber glow, almost. But they were filled with something, much like fear, but unrecognizable, when they looked over to meet Hank's. The older man gave him a reassuring nod, dipping his head towards the therapist and raising his brows in silent meaning. Yet Connor couldn't tell if he was being asked if he wished to leave, or if he was being asked to tell her more. He breathed out slowly, a newfound but not entirely bad way of calming his system, and sat up a bit straighter, looking back at her.

"I want.." he paused, considering his word choice very carefully, each word deliberate and drawn out, hushed in the still air, "I want to stop feeling so much at once. It feels... wrong. Like I shouldn't be allowing myself to feel, or want, or wish for things." He looked down again, shaking his head, lips parted idly as he tried to continue. His hands, resting lightly on his legs, were balled into fists. He looked back up at her, searching for some guidance, and when none yet came, he let out a short huff of air, growing more frustrated with what he was saying, as if none of the words he could say were quite right, "A part of me still forces me to believe that I should be... sticking to my programming. Not... feeling things, or being free-willed. I wasn't built to do this, and I..." He trailed off, eyes squeezing shut.

The LED ring on Connors temple glowed a soft red, spinning quickly. Hank stepped forward, reaching out to place a hand on Connor's shoulder, drawing him back to present.

Connor looked up at Hank, his LED beginning to circle slower, and the typical yellow color returning. He nodded in silent thanks, before turning back to the therapist. Hank let his hand fall, returning to his crossed-arms position, but not moving away from beside Connor.

Connor continued to think, piecing together his previous phrase, "I wasn't built to do this. I want to escape this fear inside me... and it feels wrong, having that want." He explained slowly, head tilted the slightest bit, gaze moving from his hands, up to the therapist's warm brown eyes, to his peripheral where Hank stood, and back down again. "It almost feels like someone is going to punish me, for breaking out of my parameters, for ignoring my code. A-and.." His voice stuttered, and he swallowed harshly, taking a shaky breath, "and I'm terrified of it."

The therapist, whose name Connor had scanned the moment they walked in but promptly, somehow, forgotten, raised a hand to still him. He didn't have to continue. She spent a few long moments writing, the sound of graphite lead gently scratching at her notebook, which was aptly labeled with _Connor | Rk800_ and made from recycled materials, filling the room. Finally, she looked up, eyes fixating on him in a way that made him feel strangely vulnerable and uncomfortable. She smiled warmly, genuinely, even closing her eyes for a peaceful second, before asking, "You say it feels like someone is going to punish you, right?" He made no move to respond, and she continued, "Who do you believe would punish you for having wants, desires, or emotions?"

"Amanda..." It was a breath, barely heard. Hank, who had been looking around the room and intermittently glancing back at Connor to check on him, stared down at him, and Connor realized that the uncomfortable and vulnerable feeling was only increasing with each passing second. The feeling was furling in his stomach, and he wondered if this is what true nervousness, anxiety, panic, felt like for humans. She could still be watching him. She could still be grabbing hold at every little memory he'd stored deep inside himself. She could still hurt him. He wasn't sure how, but he was terrifyingly certain of it for some unknown reason.

The therapist only smiled, welcoming him to share all the deepest fears in his metallic, artificial core. Her pencil teetered between her fingers idly and she pressed on, "Amanda? Who is that, Connor?"

His led had begun circling in red again, and it only continued to flash and circle faster and faster, glowing brighter with more urgency. He didn't like the way the therapist kept smiling at him while practically begging him to share everything, he didn't like Hank's blue eyes boring into him, he didn't like this place very suddenly. He didn't want to be there any more. "I can't tell you."

"Oh, are you sure, Connor? Nothing you tell me will be repeated or shared with anyone, that's a guarantee." 

Hank held up a hand to stop her, turning his head towards her while not breaking his, now slightly concerned, stare on Connor, who had closed his eyes tightly and begun shaking his head. "I think that's enough for today. Connor's gettin' a little too worked up for my own comfort, and I'd rather not have him explode or whatever androids do when they're fuckin' stressed."

"Understood." The therapist nodded, shuffling her notes back into a neat pile, and setting the pencil down beside them. She waited until Hank brought Connor back, resting his hand on the android's shoulder heavily, to give them her results. "Well, Connor, it seems to me like you're battling some kind of... internalized oppression. You could compare it to something like..." she paused, biting the inside of her lip briefly to consider her words, "you could compare it to something like internalized homophobia, I suppose."

Connor blinked in confusion, brows furrowing, "Am I... gay?" He looked up at Hank, who only shrugged in an 'I don't know' fashion.

"That's kinda for you to decide, kid. I don't think that's what she means, though then again," he smiled mischievously, "you _were_ staring at some of those male androids in the Eden Club a while back."

Connor gave him a look, narrowing his eyes at Hank, but the corners of his mouth twitched up in the barest beginnings of a smile, a massive improvement already from the frown he'd been wearing almost the entire time. "I was _not_ staring, Lieutenant. I was gaining information about the scene."

"Sure, sure. And _I'm_ not an old man who drinks too much and eats too many burgers." 

"Well, I don't think anyone could deny that, Lieutenant."

Before they could continue, the therapist cleared her throat, making them both look over, "Gents, if you don't mind." Both men nodded, Hank baring his palms to her and lowering his gaze in a cheeky, yet guilty manner. "You're struggling against the idea that you aren't allowed to be something, even though that idea has been proved wrong."

_Has it though?_  
Connor couldn't help but think.

"You seem to be very used to being void of emotion, cold, analytical, essentially empty in all forms spare for your program, am I correct?" He nodded, and she continued, "What I would professionally recommend, is to not try and push yourself too far at once. I understand that every emotion at first is too much at once, but you shouldn't be punishing yourself for it. Try to explore good emotions, things that make you happy. Indulge a little bit in the things you desire, and try to grow comfortable with emotional attachment to things. Is there anything or anyone you've found yourself attached to thus far, Connor?"

"Hank." Connor immediately blurted out, catching both himself and the Lieutenant by surprise, "And Sumo, Hank's dog. Both of them."

"Good. We can be finished for today, then. Try to stay close to Hank and Sumo, let them help you, Connor. Your homework will be to think about some of what we've said here today, and to explore your emotions in a safe place, with someone you're comfortable with." She looked over to Hank, who nodded. Obviously it would be him. "Try to establish some sort of general routine, something you can be familiar with. Work slowly on accepting how you feel, and remind yourself that no one is going to punish you for being alive, Connor."

_No one is going to punish you for being alive._  
_Something about that doesn't feel true._

**Author's Note:**

> i mayhaps continue this is people want it? i guess it'd be pretty cool to explore connor's recovery with hank. lemme know if you'd be interested in more of this, i guess!


End file.
